Experiencing a loved one’s addiction can change you in ways you never imagined. My own encounters with my mother’s addiction have woven a complex tapestry of emotions challenging me to navigate through both darkness and light.
At the tender age of 8, I found myself thrust into a tumultuous reality, where my mother’s addiction cast its long shadow over our lives. It wasn’t just about her struggles; it became mine too. I vividly recall the moments of anger when my new sneakers vanished into thin air or my cherished game system disappeared, casualties of her desperate attempts to feed her addiction. As the eldest sibling, I bore the weight of responsibility, crafting makeshift meals like mayo sandwiches and leftovers from school lunch and tending to my younger brother, just 4 years old at the time.
In the pain of confusion, I grappled with conflicting emotions. Despite the turmoil, a part of me resisted the notion of abandoning my mother, bound by a sense of loyalty and family obligation. My mother, once a beacon of love and warmth, became a distant shadow of herself, consumed by the demons of addiction. Her laughter, once melodic was replaced by the hollow echoes of despair. I am ashamed that I became embarrassed by my mother’s appearance and her actions. Confused on what to do or who to tell- I decided that it was time to tell my father which meant leaving my mother. Moving in with my father also meant stepping into an unfamiliar world, one that initially filled me with shame for finding comfort and stability. Yet, in that new environment, I discovered a haven of safety and possibility, where I could flourish beyond the shadows of addiction.
However, As I embraced this new chapter, guilt ate away at my conscience. I couldn’t shake the feeling of betraying my mother, even as I recognized the necessity of prioritizing my own well-being. My father’s new marriage introduced another layer of complexity, as I struggled to reconcile my affection for my stepmother with the fear of erasing or replacing my biological mother.
As the years passed, clarity emerged from the fog of uncertainty. I came to understand addiction not as a moral failing, but as a relentless disease, trapping those affected in a cycle of dependency and hopelessness. My journey of acceptance was uplifted by the steadfast love I held for my mother, a constant reminder of her inherent value beyond her struggles with addiction. My mother has been to several treatment facilities, and nothing has worked, YET. Through everything my mother has put me through, I know she loves me, it’s the addiction. I have gone to therapy groups and have met amazing people where we have shared experiences and common struggles. My bonus mom works in substance abuse and helps me not only gain more knowledge but has been instrumental in my mother treatment.
Now, as I stand at the threshold of higher education, the path ahead shimmers with promise and possibility. The scholarship I pursue is not just a means to an end, but a beacon of hope, illuminating the path of my aspirations. My goal is clear: to become an addiction medicine physician, a steadfast ally in the fight against addiction, armed with empathy, understanding, and determination.
In this journey, I carry the lessons of the past, the dreams of the future, and the enduring belief that through compassion and commitment, we can illuminate even the darkest corners of addiction’s shadow. My journey continues…